


The Deja Vu Affair

by alynwa



Category: Man From U.N.C.L.E.
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-10-31
Updated: 2012-10-31
Packaged: 2017-11-17 11:54:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 8,246
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/551269
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/alynwa/pseuds/alynwa
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A follow up to "Strange Dream" which is also posted here.  Illya and Napoleon are on a mission in France.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

Mr. Waverly sat puffing his unlit pipe as he watched his CEA staring at the picture of the woman in the file he had just sent around to him.  “Mr. Solo,” he intoned, “Do you know her?  Your eyes widened slightly when you first gazed upon her.”  _And you paled briefly, also._

Napoleon cleared his throat and said, “No, no Sir, I don’t know her though she reminded me of someone for a moment.”  He could feel his partner’s eyes on him and knew if he met them what question would be on display.  “You were saying, Sir?”

The Old Man harrumphed, “That was all.  Mr. Solo, Mr. Kuryakin, you have your assignment.  Good luck.”  He swiveled his chair around to his communications console, his none too subtle sign that they were dismissed.

“Thank you, Sir,” the two agents said in unison as they rose simultaneously and moved toward the exit.  Illya stepped aside to allow his senior agent to go ahead of him.  They nodded at Lisa Rogers as they walked past.  When they entered the hallway, Illya followed Napoleon about fifteen feet before firmly grabbing his upper arm to turn him around. 

“I saw you pale when you looked at the file.  What was that about if you do not know who the woman is?”

Napoleon made sure they were out of earshot of the other people in the hallway and then said softly, “Remember when we were in Montana a week ago and I had that dream?”

“ _Da,_ I had to wake you up.  You could not remember what had transpired in the dream.  What about it?”

Napoleon held up the file.  “This woman, she looks like the woman in that dream.  In fact, she looks _exactly_ like her.  Seeing that photo gave me the creeps.  Like someone stepped on my grave.”  He began to move to the elevator bank again and once it arrived, the two agents stepped in and Napoleon pressed the button for their floor.

The door slid open and each man went to his desk to clear it in anticipation of their departure.  “Today is a first,” the Russian said conversationally, “I actually have time to go home and pack a proper suitcase.  I trust you will do the same.”  When he got no response, he looked across the desks to see Napoleon lost in thought.  “Did you not hear me?”  He threw a pencil onto the desk to get the brunet’s attention.  “It was only a dream, Napoleon.  Are you alright?”

“I’m fine.  Let’s go over the assignment now.  This woman, French socialite Sabine St. Jacques, is thought to be the satrap leader of a THRUSH nest located in Marseille, France that is allegedly working with a franc counterfeiting ring based in The Principality of Monaco that is headed up by this man,” Napoleon stated as he pulled another picture from the file, “Name is Rene’ El Saddiq, a half – Arab, half – Frenchman with dual citizenship in Saudi Arabia and France.”

Illya took the proffered picture.  “Intel reports that Rene’ and his group used to just launder their money through the casino in Monte Carlo.  Lately, he has gone into business with Sabine.  She buys the fake cash for sixty percent of its face value.”

“Yup and then Sabine’s satrap puts the money into circulation throughout France.  Our mission is to stop this unholy alliance before it bankrupt’s both France’s and Monaco’s economies.  I will go to Marseille and seduce Sabine into revealing her money pipeline and destroy it while you, Partner Mine, will travel to Nice and Monaco to make contact with El Saddiq, befriend him and then take down his counterfeit operation.  If the famous Solo luck is on our side, we’ll be sipping a lovely Bordeaux in Paris in less than two weeks.”

Illya knew his partner’s bravado was him working through a case of nerves, which left him with a vaguely unsettled feeling.  _I wish I knew more about this dream so I could understand_ _why it is bothering him._ “Our flight is at nine tonight.  We need to start preparing to leave.”

MFUMFUMFUMFUMFUMFUMFUMFU

They studied their new identities for a couple of hours and then slept the rest of the flight and arrived well – rested at Marseille Provance Airport at nine thirty the next morning.  Illya picked up his rental car and began to drive to the Intercontinental Marseille where Napoleon would be staying.  As he eased the car onto the A7 toward Marseille, he found some jazz on the radio, set it at a volume suitable for conversation and asked Napoleon, “So, have you memorized your new identity?”

“Of course; my name is Renard Marcel Durand and I am an attaché with the Canadian Consulate in Nice, France.  I am in Marseille for a much needed vacation and I have used my connections to wrangle a coveted invitation to Sabine St Jacques’ cocktail party at her home on rue de Refuge.  Once there, I will use my considerable charms to seduce Miss St Jacques into revealing her THRUSH alliance by intimating that I can be of service.  And, to whom am I speaking and sharing my espionage secrets?”

The Russian chuckled as he exited the highway and began to maneuver the streets of Marseille.  “You are speaking with Marik Jaworski of Poland a, what do you Americans call it?  Oh yes, a trust fund baby who has been partying his way across France and is now traveling from Marseille to Nice to Monaco.  I will make contact with El Saddiq in one of his usual haunts and befriend him.  We will become such good friends that he will invite me to play baccarat with him and then I will catch him with the counterfeit francs in hand and then he will either tell me what he knows about THRUSH operations in France and Monaco or he will be jailed for a very, very long time.  We are here, Renard.  Do not forget to check in with me; Standard Operating Procedure.”  He pulled in front of the InterContinental Hotel and while the doorman opened the passenger door to let Napoleon out, he got out to open the trunk and retrieve Napoleon’s bag.  Placing it on the sidewalk, he waved goodbye quickly and got back in his car to begin his two hour drive to Nice.    

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 


	2. Chapter 2

A bellhop picked Napoleon’s bag off the pavement and placed it on a carrier to wheel into the lobby.  He walked to the Front Desk and smiled at the young woman behind the counter.  He read her nameplate and as he handed over his credit card and Canadian passport he said, “Good morning, Michelle, I have a reservation” in Canadian – accented French.

She returned his smile and checked her records.  “Of course, Mr. Durand,” she replied in English.  “I have it right here.  Please forgive me; I have a hard time understanding Canadian French.  Would it be terrible if we converse in English?”

Napoleon allowed himself a good laugh.  “A close friend of mine who learned to speak French in Paris laughs at what he calls my ‘mangling’ of the language.  I am not insulted at all.”  He held out his hand and she placed his card and passport in it along with the key to his suite.

“ _Monsieur_ Durand, welcome to the InterContinental Marseille.  If you have any questions or needs, please feel free to call the Front Desk or the Concierge Desk.  There should be a Welcome Basket in your room filled with complementary toiletries from our Gift Shop.  If there is something in there you would like to order, a call to the shop will get the item delivered to your room and the charge placed on your credit card.”

Napoleon inclined his head in a small bow.  “Thank you.  You’ve been most…helpful.”  He turned and followed the bellhop to the elevators.  Arriving on his floor, he walked down the hall and unlocked his suite’s door. 

The bellhop smiled at the generosity of the tip.  “ _Merci, Monsieur!”_ he exclaimed before leaving.  Napoleon immediately opened his suitcase and hung up his suits so the wrinkles could fall out and placed his other things into the dresser drawers.  He walked to the table in front of the large window that overlooked the city.  The Welcome Basket sat there as promised and his eyes swept across it before he looked outside.  Something about the basket jogged his memory and caused him to take a closer look.  When recognition hit him, a knot of fear formed in the pit of his stomach.

 _This can’t be,_ he thought as he pulled items out and laid them on the table so he could examine the wrapping paper.  He picked up the phone and called the Front Desk.  He recognized the voice on the other end.  “Michelle, this is Mr. Durand.  I have a silly question: Do you know what the wrapping paper looks like that the Gift Shop is currently using?”

“ _Oui,_ it looks like yellowed pages from an English dictionary; words and definitions in black ink.  The store manager likes it very much for some reason.  It’s been in use for the last four or five months.  Is something wrong?”

“No.  No, nothing’s wrong, thank you, Michelle,” he said before hanging up.  He sat heavily upon the bed and stared at the paper.  For a split second, he considered calling Illya, but what would he have said?  _Hey Illya, remember I told you one of the images from my dream was a page from a dictionary?  I’m sitting in my hotel room looking at exactly what I saw in my dream, right down to the words on the paper._

He pulled a bottle of Chivas Regal from his honor bar and fixed a drink.  He pulled his tie off and toed off his shoes before heading to his bed and reclining against the headboard with his feet up.  He pulled his invitation to Sabine’s cocktail party out of his jacket inside pocket and re – read it.

_Monsieur Renard Durand_

_The honor of your presence is requested at the home of_

_Mademoiselle Sabine St Jacques_

_400 rue de Refuge_

_for_

_cocktails and amuse bouche_

_Friday, 17 September 1967_

_8 o’clock in the evening_

_Regrets only._

_Cocktail attire_

He called the Concierge Desk and had them book a table for one at Le Miramar restaurant for six PM.  _I’ll head to her home from there._ He asked for a wake – up call at four PM and rolled over for a nap.

MFUMFUMFUFUMFUMFUMFUFU

The cocktail party was a Who’s Who of Marseille society.  Napoleon arrived promptly at eight and after being announced, he spotted Sabine carrying on a conversation with a couple on the far side of the room and slowly, deliberately moved in that direction.  He plucked a glass of Chardonnay from the tray of a passing waiter and took a sip.  When Sabine looked in his direction, he gave her his most dazzling smile.  The smile he got in return was genuine but questioning.  He moved closer and bowed ever so slightly from the waist.  “Good evening, Miss St Jacques.  I am Renard Durand of the Canadian Consulate.  _Monsieur_ Dubois asked me to deliver his regards.”

Sabine St Jacques was a stunning brown – eyed brunette who had her hair swept up into a French roll.  She stood eye to eye with Napoleon in three inch heels which meant she was five feet six inches tall in her stocking feet.  Recognition flashed in her eyes.  “Pierre?  How is he?  Why is he not here?”

The chemistry between the two of them was so instantaneous and obvious, the couple she had been speaking with smiled and drifted away.  She stepped closer and put her arm through his.  “Pierre, he is not ill, is he?  Such a sweet old man.”

 _Clever girl,_ he thought before replying, “Mademoiselle, Pierre will be most distressed to find out you think him old at forty – six.  I, on the other hand, am quite pleased that he is obviously not your type.”

Sabine laughed huskily and inquired, “I see.  So, what type of man do you think _is_ my type, Renard?”

Napoleon allowed his eyes to wander appreciatively up and down Sabine’s body.  It was a bold move and one he had perfected over the years.  Too vague, and the woman might miss it completely; too intense, and the woman would be creeped out completely and bolt.  When done just right, as he did, the look let a woman know that he found her very desirable, but was in no rush.  He knew that allowing the woman to set the pace of seduction was an incredible turn – on for most and was a secret to his success as a seducer.  “I think your type, Sabine, looks very much like me.”

 

 

 

 

 

 


	3. Chapter 3

Traveling up the coast to Nice was one of the most serene, relaxing times Illya had ever known.  The sun had come out and the few clouds in the sky were perfect puffy cotton balls which, combined with the jazz station he found, was enough to lift even his dark Russian soul. 

He had exited the highway and was cruising on the Promenade des Anglais on his way to his hotel.  He was staying at the Hotel Mercure Nice Marche’ Aux Fleurs on the Quai Des Etats Unis; definitely not Illya Kuryakin’s style, but it suited Marik Jaworski to a T.  A beachfront hotel close to the best clubs and restaurants in town, it was where some of the wealthiest tourists stayed and liked to be seen lounging beach, bar or poolside.

He checked in and was escorted to his room by the bellhop.  He had to smile as he gave the young man a very generous tip and sent him on his way.  _If Napoleon could see me now,_ he thought as he opened his suitcase to unpack.  Unlike his partner, when he was sent to infiltrate high society, UNCLE had to outfit him from head to toe as his own off – the – rack wardrobe would never do.

Instead, he had been provided with clothing that, on the surface, looked very much like his usual attire, but upon closer inspection, revealed the turtlenecks, shirts, ties, suits and shoes were all high – end designer clothing befitting the likes of a spoiled rich young man.  Even his regular underwear and socks had been replaced with their silken counterparts.

He thought about his partner again as he pulled his communicator from his inner jacket pocket and checked the time.  _Almost two._ He put his communicator away.  _His evening is starting earlier than mine so he should be asleep now._ He called Room Service and ordered a sumptuous lunch of salade Nicoise and bouillabaisse, all the while grinning at what he imagined The Old Man’s reaction was going to be when he got the expense report for this affair.

He sat at his table overlooking the white sands and blue waters of the _Baie des Anges_ eating and reflecting on how he intended to engage his target.  _According to Intelligence, El Saddiq is quite a party animal who resides here in Nice and goes to the casino in Monte Carlo on Saturdays to exchange his counterfeit monies for real francs.  Obviously, he has a connection in the casino._ He finished eating and placed his tray outside his door and then called for a wake – up at seven PM.  Placing his Walther under his pillow, he laid down.  Just before he dozed off he thought, _I hope Napoleon is not having bad dreams._

Nine o’clock found the Russian at the High Club, one of the hippest, if not, _the_ hippest nightclub in Nice.  Casually, but elegantly dressed in a black Yves St Laurent suit, Armani white cotton shirt and Hermes’ silk tie, he wended his through the pulsating crowd, smiling and dancing in time to the music, eyes constantly roving the scene as he searched for his prey.  He had circled the club twice, stopping here and there to dance with an appreciative female and was just about to give up and move on when he spotted El Saddiq seated at a booth toward the back of the club with friends.

A slow song came on and Illya looked around for a dance partner.  He chose a shapely blonde from the small cadre of women trying to catch his eye and began to dance with and engage her in small talk.  They turned slowly in a circle as Illya surreptitiously kept El Saddiq under surveillance and waited for an opportunity to present itself so he could approach him.

He and his dance partner moved closer and then he saw his chance; El Saddiq stood and moved to the bar.  Illya led his partner to the edge of the dance floor, stepped back to twirl her around and expertly picked the man’s pocket.  A few seconds later, he let go of his partner quickly and grabbed a man passing by and snarled loudly enough for El Saddiq to hear, “ _Voleur!  J’ai vu ce que vous!  Donnez-le en arriere maintenant!”_ (Thief!  I saw what you did!  Give it back now!)

When El Saddiq whipped around, he saw Illya holding his wallet in one hand and a shocked looking man in the other.  “That is mine!  What happened?”

“I was dancing with my friend here when I saw him lift your wallet,” Illya said calmly as he handed El Saddiq his wallet.  He shrugged and added, “I do not like thieves.” 

The man shook off his hand and shouted “I stole nothing!  How dare you!”  He made as if to challenge Illya, but the men who had been sitting with El Saddiq stood and came closer.

El Saddiq warned, “I suggest that you walk away while you still can.”

Deciding discretion was the better part of valor, the man slunk away under the glare of all four men.  When he saw the “thief” exit the club, El Saddiq looked at Illya and smiled.  Extending his hand he said, “My name is Rene’ and you are…?”

Illya returned the smile and shook Rene’s hand.  “I am Marik and this lovely lady is Vivienne.”

“Marik, Vivienne, please join me and my friends at our table.”

Illya and his ‘date’ spent the next few hours drinking and getting better acquainted with their new friends.  When they tired of the dance club, Illya suggested they head over to Le Staccato on rue du Pont Vieux to listen to jazz.  Rene’ was all for it, but his friends said they were going to stay.  Illya was secretly thrilled when Vivienne also opted to stay in the High Club with her girlfriends.  He accepted the piece of paper she gave him with her number on it and kissed her hand when she said goodnight and stepped away from the table.

An hour later found Rene’ and Illya eating finger foods at the jazz club and listening to a saxophonist play soothing music.   Rene’ was quite knowledgeable about jazz and he and Illya were having a rather pleasant conversation about Thelonius Monk.  After awhile, Rene’ said, “ _Mon Dieu,_ it’s almost 4AM!  I thank you again, Marik, for stopping that dog from stealing my wallet.  How long are you going to be in Nice?”

Illya allowed himself a yawn and replied, “I am driving up to Monte Carlo this afternoon to gamble.  I thought I might stay the night.”

Rene’ smiled, “Wonderful!  I also plan to go to the casino.  Let’s meet there; I have quite a few friends who live in Monaco.  We can party together.  What do you say?”

“I say: Why not?”

“Perfect.”  He handed Illya a card.  “This is where I’ll be staying along with the phone number.  I plan to be there around five.”  The two men walked unsteadily from the club to the parking lot.  Rene’ knocked on the driver’s window to wake up his chauffeur.  “Are you alright to drive, _mon ami?_ I can drop you at your hotel.”

Illya waved his hand and replied, “ _Merci,_ no, I am fine.  I will call you when I arrive in Monaco.  Goodnight, my friend.”  He watched as El Siddiq’s car pulled out of the parking lot and drove away.  When the tail lights disappeared, the seemingly mildly drunk young man straightened up and walked quite soberly to his car, got in, started it up and drove back to his hotel.

He was feeling rather successful as he prepared for bed and was looking forward to the second part of his mission.  He was especially pleased that he was able to use two Innocents to further his mission without getting them in too deeply.  That made him think as he lay down; _Napoleon would have probably talked Vivienne into going to the jazz club and then escorted her home to seduce her.  I hope he is doing as well as I am._           

 

 

 

 

 


	4. Chapter 4

Napoleon and Sabine were almost inseparable for the rest of the evening.  A few times, she stepped away to take a phone call, but she would seek him out shortly thereafter and possessively place her arm through his, especially when other women seemed to be paying too much attention to him. 

At one point he jokingly said to her, “Am I going to have to use my diplomatic immunity?”  When her face crinkled in confusion, he leaned closer and whispered, “Are you using me to make one of these men jealous?  Because you know, if one of them attacks me in a rage, I can kill him and get away with it due to my diplomatic immunity.”

Her laughter sounded like chiming bells.  “Oh, my goodness, Renard!  You and your immunity are much too… _interesting_ to be used for things as common as making someone jealous.  Rest assured, there is _no one_ I am trying to make jealous.   In fact, I would like you to stay after everyone else leaves.  Think about it.”

Napoleon raised her hand to his lips and kissed the palm tenderly.  He stared directly into her eyes as he said, “I do not need to think about it.  I would be honored.”

“Then it’s settled.”

The party began to break up around ten PM.  True to her word, none of the men present seemed to harbor any resentment toward him for being her choice for the evening.  _This is going well,_ he thought.  _I just need to convince her that I am enamored with her enough to do anything she wants._

He stood by the bar pouring two glasses of pinot Grigio while she saw her last guests to the door.  She closed it and kicked off her shoes.  Bending gracefully to pick them up, she strolled to where Napoleon stood with both glasses in hand.  Taking one, she clinked her glass against his and they drank.  Lowering the glass from her lips, she stepped closer, stood on her toes and plundered Napoleon’s mouth.  He brought his free hand around her body and pulled her closer, allowing her to feel his arousal.

 _“Mon Dieu,”_ she murmured huskily, “I think it is time that we went upstairs.”  His response was to hold out his arm and she put hers through it and they went up the staircase.  When they arrived at the top of the stairs, she flipped a wall switch shutting off the downstairs light.  She led him to her room in the dark. 

They walked into her bedroom and she turned into him and kissed him again.  “Make yourself comfortable; I’ll be back as soon as I can.”  He dropped a quick kiss on her mouth before she walked into her master bathroom.  Just before she stepped through and closed the door, she flipped a switch that turned on the lamp on the night stand next to the bed.

He looked around the well appointed white on white with white room approvingly as he quickly removed his jacket and holster.  He stuffed his holster into his jacket sleeve and then draped it neatly over a chair.  He would make sure she had no reason to go near it.  He turned toward the bed as he loosened his tie and froze.  Lying upon the comforter was a long – stemmed red rose.

His erection disappeared as he stared in shock at what was in front of him.  _It’s just like in my dream!  How is this possible?  Why is this happening?_   If he were not on a mission, he would have made his excuses and fled.  But he _was_ on a mission, so he took another sip of his wine, toed off his shoes and moved the chair that held his jacket a little bit closer to the bed.

Sabine came out of the bathroom dressed in an ivory silk spaghetti – strapped nightgown that highlighted her curves.  She walked up behind Napoleon and wrapped her arms around him.  “Do you always keep a rose on your bed?” he asked.

“No,” she purred as she came around to the front of him, “I put it there the last time I came up here to take a phone call.  I was hoping you would see it.”  When she saw the brief look of concern on his face she asked, “You’re not allergic, are you?” before removing it and placing it on her dresser.

He reached for her and kissed from the base of her throat to her ear and down to her mouth.  Even though the rose had unnerved him, she would never know it.  He was, after all, well – trained in the art of seduction and lovemaking.  He eased her down onto the bed before lifting his mouth from her body to say, “Not at all.”

Hours later, Napoleon eased himself out of her bed and into his clothes.  Once he had finished dressing, he sat on the bed next to Sabine to hug and kiss her awake.  Voice thick with sleep she said, “ _Cherie,_ you do not have to go.”

“We will both sleep better alone in our own beds, _mon chat petite.”_

“Let’s do something special today.  Why don’t we drive to the casino in Monte Carlo this evening?”

 _Perfect,_ Napoleon thought before he said, “Tell me you phone number, Sabine, and I will call you in the afternoon.”  He wrote down her number and repeated, “I will call you this afternoon” before kissing her temple and heading out the bedroom door.  He let himself out and as he got into his car to head back to his hotel he thought, _Napoleon Reilly Solo, you have to maintain a clear head.  The fact that Sabine looks like the woman in your dream and placed the rose on the bed like that image from the dream are coincidences, they have to be. Illya is scheduled to check in around 11AM; I’ll let him know I’m heading to Monte Carlo and we’ll see where we stand._     

Napoleon’s communicator began chirping just before eleven, as expected.  He answered it quickly.  “Good morning.  Are you safe?”

His partner’s voice came through the device.  “Good morning.  That is an interesting question; yes, I am safe.  Why?  Do you think I am not?”

Napoleon shrugged as if Illya could see it.  “I don’t know.  I saw something else that reminded me of that dream I had.  Sabine had placed a red rose on her bedspread and it looked exactly like the image I had in my head.  It startled me for a moment, but I recovered and things progressed even better than I had hoped.  She wants to drive to Monte Carlo this evening.  Were you able to make contact with El Saddiq?”

A low chuckle came through the device.  “Oh yes, he and I are now such good friends that we are going to meet in Monte Carlo to gamble.  I have the address and phone number where he will be staying.  With you and Sabine there we might be able to, what is the saying?  Kill two birds with one rock?”

“Stone, but same thing.  I don’t know if Sabine plans to spend the night; it’s only a half – hour drive from Nice to the casino.  Are you planning to spend the night?”

“I do not know though I told El Saddiq that I would.  Rene’ plans to get to Monte Carlo by three; I contacted Mr. Waverly so he would inform Interpol’s Monaco office that I will   be checking in with them once I have proof of his counterfeiting activities and to have dinner reservations made for two at _Le Louis XV_ in the Hotel de Paris for six o’clock before we head to the casino.    Why not bring Sabine there?  Let us see if they will acknowledge each other.”

“Good idea.  I’ll have reservations made for me by the Canadian Consulate for six as well.  I think Sabine will appreciate the surprise.  Our next check – in will be face to face.  Good luck.”

“Yes, I think we have gone as far as we can before heading to Monte Carlo.  It is now up to our targets to do what we want them to do.  Good luck to you as well.  Oh, and Napoleon?”

“Yes?”

“It was only a dream; do not let it continue to bother you.”

“Thank you, Partner.  See you soon.”

 

 

 


	5. Chapter 5

Illya ended the communication, took the device apart and reassembled it back into something similar to a pen.  As he stuck it into his inner jacket pocket he thought, _It will be good to see Napoleon again; I feel very uncomfortable that he is obviously still thinking about that dream he had.  We cannot afford to be distracted.  Distractions kill._

Illya arrived in Monte Carlo at four o’clock.  He had dressed in a navy blue Saville Row suit that looked like he was born to wear it.  He had partnered it with a robin’s egg blue turtleneck that made his blue eyes nearly jump out of his head they were so vivid.  Large blue – tinted sunglasses completed the look.   He looked casually elegant and very rich.  He stopped for a cup of coffee and then went to the phone booth outside the café’ to call Rene’.   The phone rang three times before it was answered.  “Hello?”

“Rene’, it is Marik!  I wanted you to know I am here in Monte Carlo!  Do you have plans for dinner?”

“Hello, Marik!  No, no plans yet.  Do you have something in mind?”

Illya cast the line into the waters.  “Yes, I made dinner reservations at _Le Louis XV_ for six.  The woman I was in the High Club with backed out at the last moment and I was wondering if you would like to join me for dinner before we go to the casino?  However, I must be clear: I planned to pay for Vivienne, but you have to pay for yourself.”

Rene’s laughter came through the phone.  “I would not have it any other way!  I’ll see you at six.”

 _I have hooked you, my big fish!_ “See you then, _mon ami.”_

MFUMFUMFUMFUMFUMFUMFUMFU

Napoleon dialed Sabine’s number and when she answered, he purred, “Sabine, it’s Renard.  I trust you slept well?”

“ _Oui,_ Renard.  And you?”

“Like a baby.  Are we still going to Monte Carlo this afternoon?  I have planned something for us.  Please do not think me too forward, but I had the Consulate arrange dinner reservations for us at _Le Louis XV_ for six o’clock.”

“ _Cherie,_ what a perfectly lovely thing to do; that is my favorite restaurant in all Monte Carlo!  You are very thoughtful.  Perhaps we can stay the night, yes?”

It was very good that she couldn’t see the predatory smile that spread across Napoleon’s face.  “Anything you wish; the Consulate maintains an apartment in Monteville and I have the key this weekend.  I will pick you up at five.  Until then, _mon petit chat.”_   He placed the receiver back in its cradle and thought, _It seems things may come to a head tonight._

MFUMFUMFUMFUMFUMFUMFUMFU

Rene El Saddiq and Marik Jaworski were about to be escorted to their table when Renard Durand entered the restaurant with Sabine St Jacques on his arm.  “Rene’!” Sabine called. 

He turned to see who was calling him and a huge smile overtook his face.  “Sabine!”  He approached her and kissed both her cheeks in greeting.  “How wonderful to run into you here.  This is a friend, Marik.  Marik, this is my dear friend, Sabine.”

Illya stepped up, took her hand and kissed it.  “ _Enchante’,_ Sabine.”

Sabine replied, “The pleasure is mine.  Rene’, Marik, may I present Renard.” 

All three men shook hands and Illya said, “Why don’t we share a table?  Rene’ and I are going to the casino after dinner.  We can all go together; the more the merrier, I say.”

Napoleon whispered in Sabine’s ear, “Whatever you want is fine with me, my dear.”

Sabine looked at the men and said, “It is not often I am in the company of such handsome, attentive men.  Yes, let’s combine our reservations and make an evening of it.  I will be the envy of every woman in Monte Carlo.”

Illya rubbed his hands together.  “Perfect!”  He turned to the maitre‘d, spoke softly to him and then slipped him a few francs.  The man nodded, picked up two more menus and motioned for the group to follow him.  He brought them to a table for four that was closer to the wall than the center of the room.  If Rene’ and Sabine noticed their dining companions had finagled their way into the chairs that offered the best view of the room, they said nothing about it.

The food was absolutely superb and Illya had to remember that Marik was quite used to eating like this on a regular basis, so though he commented on the tastiness of his sea bass he did not wolf it down the way he normally would.  He was an absolutely charming dinner companion, telling tales of his “travels” and asking interesting questions of everyone at the table, most directed at Rene’ and Sabine.

While Sabine was regaling them with the story of how she had won two hundred thousand francs at baccarat one night, Illya took the opportunity to quickly assess Napoleon’s demeanor and mental condition.  _One would never know that he had anything on his mind other than his meal and the woman at his side._ Illya felt pride in his partner’s professionalism.  _Once this mission is completed, he and I are going to talk this whole dream business out._

He was pulled back from his momentary reverie when Napoleon said, “Marik, did you hear what Rene’ just said?  There are going to be _fireworks_ this evening.  The three of us want to see them; how about you?”

Illya laughed softly as he picked up his glass of _Chateau’ Evangile._ “I am sorry; you caught me daydreaming about a young lady I met at the High Club.”  He winked at Rene’.  “I had hoped for…a different sort of fireworks with her tonight, but viewing these with new friends will do nicely.  What is the occasion?”

Rene’ clapped Illya on the shoulder.  “I bet you did!  Renard, his lady friend was _magnifique!_ Romance is in the air, my friend.  I heard on good authority that a Saudi prince plans to propose and has commissioned the display to celebrate her acceptance of his ring.”

“He is extremely confident the lady will say yes,” Illya said.

Sabine laughed, “He is a Saudi prince, Marik!  Why on earth would she say no?”

Sabine and Rene’ began discussing where the best vantage point would be and what time they should leave the casino.  Illya looked at Napoleon who gave him a look back imperceptible to anyone else, but to Illya clearly said, _That was in my dream, too!   What is going on?_

They paid their bill and headed over to the casino.  At first, they walked around the casino together just to see what was happening.  They sat awhile at a blackjack table that seemed to be hot for the players.  Then, as people are prone to do, they agreed on a meeting time and place and then split up to pursue their own interests; Illya and Rene’ to the baccarat tables and Napoleon and Sabine to the high – end slot machines.

“Marik, before I head to the table, I need to use the facilities.”

“I will wait here for you.  This slot machine looks lucky.”  He watched Rene’ stroll away and then began to follow him from a discrete distance. 

Rene’ walked to the cashiers’ windows and waited until one particular window was open.  Illya observed him pulling a substantial amount of cash from his wallet and getting chips in return.  _So that is how he does it,_ Illya thought, _he has an inside man to accept the fake money._ He was about to head back to their meeting place when Sabine appeared from the opposite end of the casino.

He eased back behind a row of slot machines to watch.  The two spoke quietly for a few moments and then he saw the woman hand over what he assumed to be legitimate francs in exchange for a large wad of counterfeit cash.  She then went to the same cashier Rene’ had used and got chips in return.  He looked past them to see his partner observing from the other side of the floor.  He signaled that Napoleon should continue to follow.  When Napoleon gave him the thumb’s up, he moved away, found a bank of telephones and called Interpol.  He gave the description of the inside man and cautioned them not to arrest him until the end of his shift so as to not raise Rene’s or Sabine’s suspicions.  He also gave them the address where Rene’ said he was staying as he had a gut feeling that the counterfeiting ring was based there.  The Interpol agent said he would send his people to the address immediately and Illya should call back for an update in an hour or two.

He hustled back to the row where he had told Rene’ he would wait and began to play the slot machine.  He saw El Saddiq and raised his hand in greeting.  Just then, he hit triple bars on his machine and coins started falling into the till.

Rene’ came alongside him and said, “Good for you, Marik!  That is just over twenty – five thousand francs!”

Illya grabbed a bucket and began filling it with the coins.  “I want to cash these in and take my luck to the baccarat table.  I’ll meet you at the table; hold a seat for me, will you?”

“Alright, my friend,” Rene’ replied as he strolled to the Baccarat Room.

Illya took his bucket of coins and waited until he could go to the same window and worker Rene’ did.  He walked up and slid the bucket to the man and watched as he poured the coins into the counter.  When the machine stopped the man said, “Congratulations, _Monsieur,_ you have twenty – five thousand, three hundred francs.  Would you like large or small bills?”

“Give me five hundred in small bills and the rest in large.”  _If I am correct in my thinking, quite a few of the bills I receive will be counterfeit._ He watched and counted along with the cashier and when the bills were passed to him, he placed them in his wallet and headed toward the baccarat tables.  He checked his watch.  _I’ll call Interpol in an hour.  If they have indeed raided the counterfeiting base of operations, we can take Rene’ and Sabine prisoner and turn them over to UNCLE Paris and Interpol._

MFUMFUMFUMFUMFUMFU

After Sabine exchanged the fake money for cash, she headed toward the Ladies’ room.  When she came out, Napoleon was walking in that general direction ostensibly trying to decide which slot machine to play.  He looked in her direction when she called his name and smiled.  “ _Mon petite,_ have the slots been kind?  Are you having any luck?”

She returned his smile and when she came to his side, she leaned forward to plant a quick kiss on his lips.  “Renard, I think I may have used up all my luck when you came through my front door.  Why don’t we check into the Hotel de Paris instead of the consulate’s apartment after the fireworks?”

Napoleon pulled her into a hug.  “Whatever you wish, my dear.”  _I need to speak to Illya._ “What time are these fireworks supposed to begin?”

She checked her Rolex.  “Ten o’clock; we said we would meet Rene’ and Marik at nine – thirty, but perhaps we should look for them now so that we can get a good vantage point.”

They walked arm in arm to the baccarat tables and saw the two men laughing and playing cards.  Sabine stepped forward and looked over both men’s shoulders.  “Rene’, _you_ are doing rather well.”

Illya stood, “Would you like to play, Sabine?  Perhaps your luck will be better than mine.”  He pulled his chair out for her.  “I want to stretch my legs.”

She allowed him to push the chair in for her as she sat.  “I’ll try a few hands.  Then, we will go see the fireworks, yes?”

Rene’ answered for all the men.  “Absolutely.”

“Marik, I’ll walk with you,” Renard said affably.  He leaned in and kissed Sabine’s cheek.  “I’ll be back soon, my sweet.”

Napoleon and Illya strode away until they were out of sight of the table.  “I need to make a call.”  They headed quickly to a phone bank on another floor and Illya made his call.  He came out of the booth and they went back to their leisurely stroll.  Illya spoke so only Napoleon could hear.  “Interpol has successfully raided the counterfeiting ring’s location.  They confiscated the printing machines, the paper used to make the money and nearly a quarter of a million counterfeit francs.  They also arrested two people, one of whom is so eager to cut a deal he offered to tell all he knows about Rene’ _and_ Sabine.  Interpol will come and arrest all four of us so our covers remain intact.  We need to get back so that we can be found together.”

Napoleon laughed as if he had been told a rather good joke.  “Excellent!  Let’s go.”

They went back upstairs and ran into Sabine and Rene’ at the top of the stairs.  “Oh, good!” Rene said to Illya, “We’ve been looking for you, we have to leave.”

Illya said, “Yes, it is almost time for the fireworks to start.”

“No, _mon ami,_ we have to leave Monaco now.  We need to go back to Nice.”

“It was my plan to spend the night, Rene.  Why are you talking about leaving?” Illya inquired.

Napoleon looked at Sabine.  “And I thought after the fireworks we were saying goodnight to these two and heading off on our own?  Sabine, what’s wrong?”

The whole conversation had been taking place on the stairs as they were walking back down to the main floor.  As they stepped outside into the night air, Rene’ explained, “I have it on good authority that people are on their way here to do Sabine and me harm and, since you are with us, they will hurt you, too.  We must leave to stay safe.”

They had walked to where Rene’s chauffeured limo was parked slightly off the main thoroughfare.  The driver got out to open the door and helped Sabine into the car as Rene’ ran around the other side and entered “Get in, gentlemen; I will send someone for your vehicles.”

Just as Illya was about to enter the car, the fireworks display started.  The sky lit up with golds, whites and reds and the booms of the shells were counterpoint to the “oohs and ahs” they could hear coming from all directions from the people in the streets.  Napoleon gazed skyward and then grabbed Illya and pulled him away from the car at the same time pulling his Walther.  “We’re not going anywhere, Rene’.  Sabine, get out of the car.”

Illya’s mind was racing.  _What is he doing?  Is he blowing our cover?  Is it the dream?_ “Renard, what are you doing?” he asked with what he hoped was the right degree of indignation.

The look he got said, _Trust me, I know what I’m doing!_ “Sabine, I am with the Canadian Consulate!  I can protect us all!”  He yelped in pain when the woman slammed the car door on the arm he was holding out for her to take. He snatched it back as Rene’ yelled for his chauffeur to drive.

The limo jerked into motion and took off down the street just as a black sedan pulled up alongside them.  A man inside held up a badge and yelled, “Interpol!  Solo and Kuryakin?  Was that El Saddiq in that car?”

Illya answered, “Yes!” and the car took off in hot pursuit as the two agents watched. Napoleon bent down and picked up the gun he had dropped and continued to rub his arm as the Russian just stared at him.  Finally, Illya said, “Come on, my car is parked this way.”

The fireworks display had reached its booming crescendo by the time they arrived at Illya’s rental.  The echoes of the last explosions were dying away as Illya started the car and drove in the direction he was certain Rene’, Sabine and their pursuers had gone.  Illya could hold his tongue no longer.  “Napoleon, why did you not allow us to get into the car?  I _told_ you Interpol intended to keep our covers secure by arresting us with Rene’ and Sabine.  Why did you do that?”

Napoleon rubbed his face with one hand.  “The fireworks.  I know what this sounds like, but when the fireworks started, I knew there was going to be a car chase.  _I knew it._   And, the sense of danger just about overwhelmed me.  There was no way either one of us was getting in that car!  You hear that?”

Sirens announced the impending arrival of emergency vehicles, Illya pulled over to let police and fire vehicles and two ambulances pass.  “Follow them,” Napoleon ordered, his tone brooking no argument.

The Russian’s eyes widened in shock as he approached the accident scene; he could see the limousine with its rear wrapped around a low concrete wall.  He parked just in front of the police barriers that now closed off the intersection.  Both men got out of the car and moved closer through the crowd of rubberneckers all vying for a better look at the carnage.

The Interpol agents recognized Illya and cleared them both to enter the cordoned off area.  “This was a very bad business, gentlemen.  They saw us following and tried to get away.  Somehow, the driver lost control of the car and it rolled over twice before slamming into that wall.  All three occupants of the car were killed.  It is good you were not with them.”

Napoleon ignored the statement and said, “My partner told me that the raid on the address he provided was fruitful.  What about the cashier in the casino?”

“He is now in custody.  The casino is now checking its cash on hand to weed out the phony money and quietly letting its high rollers to check their bills.  The banks in both France and Monaco have been alerted.”

The American nodded.  “It would seem that UNCLE’s business is concluded here.  Do you agree?”  When the agents agreed, Napoleon said, “I’m sure Mr. Waverly will send a copy of our report to your superiors.  Good night.”  He turned on his heel and walked away with Illya behind him.

As they approached the car he held up his hand and Illya tossed him the car keys.  He unlocked the driver’s side, got in and then reached over to unlock the passenger door.  He started the car, made a K – turn and proceeded to drive back to Nice.  After about ten minutes he said, “We’ll stay in Nice tonight and drive to Marseille in morning.  We’ll arrange for a flight back to New York from there.”

They were almost back to Nice when Illya turned to look at Napoleon who was concentrating on the road.  “How did you know?” he asked quietly, “If we had been in that car, we would have surely died, too.  How could you know that it would be dangerous?  How?”

Napoleon just shook his head.  “I don’t know how I knew.  I…just _knew._ ”

_Three Days Later…_

Napoleon and Illya were in their office; one drinking coffee while he put the finishing touches on his and his partner’s expense reports and the other typing up their mission report.  “Here’s a first, _Tovarisch,_ your expense report is actually more than mine! “  He picked up a pen.  “I have to write that down.”  He looked at his partner.  “Thanks, Illya, for not mentioning my...premonition for lack of a better term, to The Old Man during our debriefing.”

The Russian grinned and tossed the completed report onto Napoleon’s desk.  “Your dream did not change how we proceeded.  It did not cause the accident.  My only concern was that it did not cause you to lose focus.  If anything, it made you sharper.  You _will_ tell me though, if you ever have another prescient dream so I will know what to expect?”

“Absolutely.”

 

 


End file.
